


(Don't) Touch

by orphan_account



Series: Bad Things Happen 1.0 [10]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Crying, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Mistakes, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Sexual Abuse, Recovery, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), They're all trying their best, Trans Morality | Patton Sanders, Triggers, one pennywise reference, the readers can decide who hurt him in the past, tho the touching happened in the past, touch-aversion, we're trying really hard to tag as best we can for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26699152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It hadn’t been much. But then again, it didn’t take much at all to trigger it.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Dark Creativity | Remus/Deceit | Janus/Morality | Patton (Sanders Sides)
Series: Bad Things Happen 1.0 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928308
Kudos: 39
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	(Don't) Touch

It hadn’t been much. But then again, it didn’t take much at all to trigger it.

The three of them—Patton, Virgil and Janus—lay sprawled out around the living room, Virgil lying on the floor and Patton and Janus sharing the couch. It’s their date night (bar Remus, who had some loose ends to tie up in the imagination), so they’re the only ones there, a movie playing on the TV (Patton isn’t really paying attention to it, but he can tell it’s action-focused, given all the fight scenes in it) as they sit in silence, enjoying the others’ company.

And then Janus stands up to get something, lightly touching Patton’s shoulder on his way out as he asks the two of them if they needed anything. With how feather-light it is, it’s doubtful the touch had even been intentional.

Patton feels the world come crashing down on him.

His breath catches in his throat, a lump forming to the point Patton hysterically wonders he’s transforming back into a frog. He can’t hear his boyfriend’s words over the ringing in his ears, soft at first before growing frantic, blurry figures flooding his vision so suddenly his only reaction is to bolt out of the room and into his bedroom, door locked behind him.

He collapses into a heap on the floor, hands pressed against his mouth to muffle his cries.

He tries. Desperately, he tries to push it back, to keep himself firmly in the present, where he’s comfortable, warm, safe.

But of course, it doesn’t work.

Invisible hands run along his body, grabbing him, rubbing, pinching him all over. A voice whispers in the back of his mind, lower and deeper than his, hushed and teasing, growing louder as the hands ran along his shoulders, giggling as they squeeze his breasts, moaning when they reach lower and lower—

_—no, no, no, stop it, **stop it** —_

Everything dulls around the edges when he’s suddenly doused with water, the side sputtering in surprise as the heat and wandering fingertips lessen, if only for now. He scrambles up to his feet, panting, arms wrapped around his middle as he looks for the source.

Remus stares at him from a hole in his ceiling, an empty bucket in his hands and a strained, almost painful smile stretched across his lips (and considering Patton has practice with faking smiles, he can tell the other is forcing it).

“Heya, Georgie!” the creative side leans forward, holding the bucket to his chest (which, Patton notices, is decorated with broken seashells and writhing tentacles, though he can’t say that surprises him any). “Jan said you might need someone to scream to. You up for it, cake-mix?”

Patton stands there for a moment, shivering and sniffling, gaze uncertain as he watches Remus slowly slink down to the floor. Part of him wants to say no. Another part just wishes he could disappear.

Then, forcing a smile that looks more like a grimace than anything else, he says, taking off his glasses to clean them, “I…I guess I wouldn’t mind talking to someone. Just—just don’t come any closer, okay?”

Remus nods without question, the smile on his face brightening. He takes a seat on the moral side’s dresser, swinging his legs idly as he does so, “Fire away, Daddy-o!”

The tension in his shoulders lessens. Not by much, surely, and he can still feel the ghosting of fingers trace his neck and his hips.

But it’s a start. And that’s good enough for now.


End file.
